Something Better
by DragonWinged
Summary: Farid's harsh life before being read out of his book.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Farid, h belongs to Cornelia Funke

Farid's hands shook with terror. _I knew i shouldn't have run away, I knew I'd get caught. And i barely even got half a mile!_ He stumled backwards, still retreating from the theif with the board and the whip. Farid fell into the dry desert sand and crawled away desperatly. He knew what was coming next; pain...and possibly even death. If the fear didn't kill him first, that is.

"Listen here boy!" he heard the man snarl. "You won't run away this time, you know why? Because after I put you through this hell, you won't even be able to move, you hear me?" the man barked down at the whimpering boy. There were already hot tears streaming down his terror stricken face. His bruises from the last beating were just begining to heal now, and he really wasn't looking forward to more.

Farid felt the first blow come to his back. He pressed his trembling hands firmly to his mouth, knowing that if he made the slightest sob, the beatings would only be done with more force. He felt shooting pains throughout his whole starved body. Farid curled himself into a ball, pulling his knees to his chest, hoping he'd feel less pain in that positon. But it was usless, absolutly usless as more blows came to him. He had to cry. He simply couldn't keep that inside anymore. "No, please stop! That hurts, it _hurts_! No-o-o-oh!" he sobbed into barren ground.

Farid screamed as the beating became more intense. The slashes, the blows, whips. The pain was so much for such a young boy to handle. After about a half hour, Farid pretended to go unconscious, whishing that he really was. Oh, how it hurt! The theif mangled him a little while longer, but then left, with a pleased smirk smacked upon his face. Farid didn't move until he was sure the man was far away.

Farid moaned and dragged himself into the shade. He began to inspect his wounds, but quickley shut his eyes, disliking the blood. He drew a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but his whole body was still trembling from the fear. _It's okay, _he told himself, _the theives are gone now. You're still alive, Farid._

He nervously opened his eyes to find that he knew exactly where he was. Fresh hope came flowing into his thin body. His hiding place wasn't far from here at all. It was a cave he'd discovered back when he was eleven or twelve. He would hide there whenever he was introuble with the theives. Farid managed to bring himself to an unsteady standing position, but that was pretty much it. He collasped, sobbing, and had to crawl the rest of the way, tears pouring from his black eyes.

After what seemed like hours, Farid reached his cave, he threw himself down onto the cold stone. The cool temperature felt soothing on his wounds. Farid looked across the cave and reached for his blanket. He'd had that thing since he were a baby. It was his only posession. He clutched the soft material to his chest, sobbing into the fabric. _There has to be something better than this, _he thought, as he cried himself into an uneasy sleep, _there has to be..._

_**Please Review!!!**_

Kemberlin


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Farid, he belongs to Cornelia Funke.

Farid had horrifying nightmares that night. Most of them were from the encounter earlier that day. This would happen whenever he recieved particularly harsh beatings. They scared him silly, awake and asleep. When he awoke, his lips quivering dangerously, he stared out into the black cloak of night that was draped over his eyes. He reached for his blanket and wrapped it tightly around his scrawny shoulders. The pain was coming back. It came in throbs and waves, causing him to crumple tightly into a ball. It was worse than he remembered. How had he managed to even crawl here, he didn't know. It was probably the adrenalin. The sheer terror that he'd get more beatings if he stayed there.

Farid sat up, leaning his torn back carefully against the cool stone. He hugged his knees to his chest, for he felt sick to his stomach from the pains. Soon, they became worse enough that he got sick all over the stone floor. Fortunatley, there was never much in his stomach. The theives enjoyed starving the boy, taunting him as they ate several times a day. He pressed his face into his blanket, thankful that there was no one around to hear his helpless whimpers. But soon those whimpers became tears. They streamed down the boys cheeks and he made no effort to wipe them away. Before he knew it, he was sobbing into the floor of the cave, gasping for breath. Farid's whole body shook from crying and he curled his trembling fingers tightly around the edges of the cloth he was clutching.

He wasn't sure how long this went on, but he realized he must have passed out, for suddenly it was daylight again. Farid felt dried teardrops all over his face. He knew the theives wouldn't expect him back for a couple of days. They didn't care where he spent his misery in the days following a beating. As long as he was suffering where they couldn't hear him, it was alright.

Farid pulled himself into a sitting position. He winced at the sight of one of his shins. It was gashed and bleeding, and would soon become infected if he didn't clean it with something. Slowly and very gingerly, Farid dragged himself towards the back of the cave, where a thin stream of water trickled by. Farid unwound his blue dusty turban from around his head and shook out his hair. His black banana curls fell into his face. Farid hated that turban, and he was always glad to take it off. He gently dipped it into the water and then wrapped his leg in it. After he tied the bandage on, he cupped his hands into the water and took a sip. It was warm, but amazingly refreshing. He splashed it onto his face, but as he bent over, his back sent shooting pains all around his body. Farid yelped and couldn't hold back the tears welling up in his big afraid eyes.

_What am I going to do? _he thought.


End file.
